rubbed the side of her face and he saw uncertainty flood her. “Why?”
“I can’t tell you exactly why, only that it could be real important, Jilly. To your safety and to Missy Durand’s.” Had he thought she would meekly do as he asked without wanting an explanation? He shrugged his shoulders and prepared to be grilled.
“You have proof that someone intends to come in through the back way and kill us?”
“You do beat about the bush, Jilly. One day you’ll learn to come to the point. It saves time.”
She poked a sharp finger into the hard flesh beneath his thigh.
A little thing like that shouldn’t bring a man so much pleasure.
“Most of the time you don’t say enough and when you do speak, you’re a smart-ass.” Her mouth turned down. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
A few hours earlier they had come together in a field of sunburned grass, violently, passionately. Yet they sat here sparring and avoiding the topic.
“Someone died in the Quarter. Shot three times. There’s the vaguest chance there’s a connection between that killing and Toussaint. Only I don’t know what it is yet.”
“Except I ought to lock my back door?”
“Sounds strange, but yes. A lot of people in town should probably lock their back doors. I just don’t have enough to go on to make a broad suggestion like that. Would you do it for me—because you’d make me a happier man?”
He would say that to anyone, Jilly thought. A kid who wouldn’t give up an Uzi, someone he was persuading not to jump off a bridge. She didn’t need to make anything personal out of it.
It was personal. “Why would it make you happier?” You know you don’t dig for sweet talk, not from Guy Gautreaux.
“Your safety is important to me. I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”
No, but she enjoyed hearing every word. “I’ll make sure it’s done. Thanks.”
“First thing in the morning?”
He was serious about this. “Yes.”
She nodded and her face puckered into a deep frown. He wouldn’t be surprised if her mind had already moved on—way on.
“We can’t avoid the subject forever,” she told him, and her throat moved sharply. She bit into her bottom lip and he didn’t like the sheen in her eyes.
When he didn’t react to her opener, she said, “I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong and I don’t understand what came over me.”
“What exactly are you talking about?” Dumb response. Quickly, he added, “I know you’re talking about this afternoon. Forget it.”
Jilly blinked. She wouldn’t allow him to make her cry. “I intend to. But not without admitting I jumped the gun.”
He grinned, actually grinned. She felt like slapping him.
“Interesting choice of clichés,” he said. The grin gradually slipped.
“You can be so mean, Guy. And you think you always win discussions, but this time I’m going to come out on top.”
“You already did.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.
Think longer, speak slower. “I’m ignoring that,” Jilly said. “I’m a big-enough person to face up to my shortcomings. You didn’t do a thing toward what happened today. I forced you.”
His grin returned. “Don’t beat yourself up. It wasn’t so bad.”
Now he’d done it, Guy thought. Jilly’s very shiny, damp-lashed eyes had narrowed to slits.
Guy rotated his shoulders and turned his grin into a warm smile. “Those pajamas look hot.” He was in a minefield. “I mean they look as if they make you hot.”
She put a hand over her mouth. “I’m not suggesting you should take ’em off.”
Jilly put a single finger to her mouth, shushing him.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “Gimme a break. I’m a challenged man. Whenever things get serious I say something that’s supposed to be funny. It’s usually inappropriate.”
“Nothing’s getting serious here,” Jilly said.
Guy moved even closer to her. She saw something new in his eyes, need—and uncertainty. He kept on coming and she gasped when his lips met hers. His mouth was firm but gentle, for the first few seconds before it turned hard and he showed the things he could do with his tongue. She crossed her arms and kept them there, tightly. This time he had to make the moves.
He kissed her for a long time and there was no doubt the man had kissed at least one woman before. His hands settled around her neck with his thumbs pushing her chin up. She fought to breathe evenly—and failed. From her lips to her closed eyes, he moved. There was no way he wouldn’t feel and taste the tears.
His mouth stilled and she knew he had discovered she was crying. Her brain told her it could not be a good idea to show any vulnerability around him, but her heart wouldn’t cooperate.
“Jilly,” he said quietly, “we’d better make sure no one gets permanently damaged here. You’ll have to help me figure out how to do that.” His lips touched her cheek and she felt him lick away a tear with the tip of his tongue. He rested his face against hers.
She sniffed and didn’t dare open her eyes. “You’re right. We wouldn’t want anything to get messy.” Jilly opened her mouth on his skin. Her breathing turned shallow. “I blame myself for this, but I’ve already done the mea culpa routine.”
“If anyone should be blamed, it’s me,” he said, barely above a whisper. “How are you supposed to know what I’m thinkin’ if I don’t tell you?”
What are you thinking? That was a question she wouldn’t ask.
She didn’t put distance between them, but she did sit up straight, with her feet on the floor. The top of her head didn’t reach his chin and he felt clumsy all over again.
What the hell. The way she makes you feel is too good to lose. See if you can get this back on track. Waiting for her to push him away, he slipped an arm around her shoulders. Jilly stiffened but she stayed put. “We can’t turn the clock back,” he told her. “What happened, happened, and I’d be a liar if I said I regretted it.”
She held her tongue.
He eased her face back toward him. “I care about you.”
And that would have to be enough. “Thank you. I care about you, too.” It was more than she’d had up till now.
His free hand settled over one of hers, a large, warm, work-roughened hand. When he threaded his fingers through hers he seemed unsure of himself for a moment, but then he raised the back of her hand to his lips. He kissed her there, lightly, and again on one knuckle after the other,
